Page 11 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“This is officially the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had…”

“I think it’s a winner for both of us,” he replied openly, nodding. “I promise I don’t propose to strangers. This is a first for me, too.”

They both sat there, staring at each other and obviously thinking. There had to be some sort of trick to this, some sort of catch. It couldn’t be just that simple, that easy, to say ‘yeah, let’s pretend’ and then everything would be great. No, there had to be stipulations… didn’t there?

“In Quebec?”

“Yes.”

“And we tell people we’re married…”

“Yes.”

“But we’re not?” she shot back.

“No.”

“Do we live together in Quebec?” she asked warily, and he seemed to pause before nodding.

“We could get a two- or three-bedroom house. My agent is sending me a few listings, and you can pick the place. I’ll buy it, put it in my name, and if things go downhill – then I’ll let youhave it or put you up in another place that is convenient for any functions that you might be required to attend.”

“So I would go to these functions… andpretendto be married to you?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s it?”

“I think so.”

“What’s in it for me?” she asked baldly and hesitated. “Sorry, I don’t mean it badly but…”

“No. It’s okay. I want us to be able to talk and negotiate, and things are going to come up that we need to discuss. You can mention anything to me, and we have to be able to discuss it like adults.”

“I want to be able to work,” she began, and he nodded. “I don’t speak much French. I took it in high school but…”

“I can get you a tutor.”

“And I’ll need a means to get around town,” she continued, not wanting to be trapped or stuck. Her parents had taken away her car keys, keeping her at the house for two weeks until she found them. No, being trapped where you don’t want to be is tough for everyone involved and results in a lot of hurtful things being said during emotional moments that were best avoided. “Maybe a car lease for a year or…”

“You can have the Bentley, or we’ll get you something there. I don’t want you to be trapped at the house, and you should be free to explore. If we’re making a home there, I want us to try to make every effort to be friends, to see our new city, and I don’t want to ever be putting you in a position where you resent helping me.”

“I can’t drive the Bentley to Quebec,” she gaped in shock, nearly curling at the realization that he understood without her having to explain her feelings. “That’s almost three thousand miles and…”

“It was getting old anyhow,” he shrugged. “How about we look for two new cars when we get there.”

“You’re serious about this.”

“If I don’t have a wife with me – then I lose the job,” he admitted. “They might force me to produce a marriage license, which sounds crazy, so I doubt that’s legal, but if they do, then we’ll have to get one -quickly.”

Jeannie nodded in understanding. The idea of being tied to a stranger was alarming, and she understood his hesitance with it, too. She didn’t have the money or a car to move quickly or easily, so this would be an easy way to start out in a new part of the world without all the anxiety and headaches that came with moving here.

Goodness, those first few months of getting settled here were terrible. She slept on the floor for weeks until she could afford to buy a bed, sat on milkcrates, used boxes to store stuff – and even now, her television was on top of a nightstand she found near a dumpster one day after cleaning it up.

“So we would live together,” she said slowly, her voice barely above a murmur, “on opposite sides of the house, each have our own cars, each live our own lives, but pretend to be married for events in public.” Her pulse thrummed in her throat as she met his gaze. “Have I summed that up correctly?”

Matthieu didn’t waver. “Yes.”

She swallowed, her tongue feeling thick, her mind racing to catch up with the absurdity of what she was about to agree to.

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